


Eternal (Or, The Series of Romantic Comics Definitely Not Written by Steven Grant Rogers.)

by westminster



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic Avengers, First Kiss, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21537808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westminster/pseuds/westminster
Summary: Before the war broke out, Steve earned a few extra bucks publishing comics under a pseudonym. He's erased the entire experience from his mind, until they end up in the hands of Tony Stark. Tony falls in love with Steve's comics, and somewhere along the way, falls in love with Steve too.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 126





	Eternal (Or, The Series of Romantic Comics Definitely Not Written by Steven Grant Rogers.)

**Author's Note:**

> i keep watching endgame and missing the comfort of winter soldier-era mcu. here's to simpler times! enjoy!

**one.  
** As the words in front of him begin to melt into each other, Tony silently curses whoever chose such a minuscule font for official SHIELD documents. He stopped listening to Fury as soon as he entered the room, and is now following a very specific train of thought about the profitability of official Tony Stark body pillows. He's already drawing up the patent forms in his head when a sharp kick by Natasha forces his mind back on track, trying his very best to tune in to Fury's words. It's not that the standing of HYDRA doesn't interest him, but he analysed the relevant reports last night. The ability to work his way into SHIELD's encrypted files did have some benefits. 

Plus, Tony can't understand why everyone is so relaxed when they can clearly see Steve freaking out in the background. Well, okay, Tony corrects himself, it's not like he's sobbing or shaking or breathing too heavily - signs that Tony is much too familiar with. Instead, Tony's picked up Steve's little quirks over the last few months. He's been keeping an eye on Steve (Tony swears it's not creepy, he's just interested in a colleague's well being: perfectly normal behavior) and he notices how Steve cracks his knuckles when he's stressed, nibbles at the corners of his upper lip and crosses then uncrosses his legs rapidly. Steve's doing all three of these ticks right now, and if he doesn't stop Tony thinks he might snap and shout at the guy. Or embrace him. _No, definitely the first one_ , he thinks, trying to reassure himself. Steve's been this way ever since he found out about Bucky and Tony's constantly battling these feelings of guilt and shame for treating guy so harshly in the beginning. They used to be at each other's throats so often he considered it a sport, but now Tony hardly ever sees Steve around and he's left wondering how different things would be if he'd been a little nicer.

Tony can only grapple with his own emotions so much in one day, and in the end manages to discreetly slip out his phone, hiding it under the table as he brings up Pepper's number.

_can you buy cap some flowers pretty please? he needs cheering up._

Pepper can sort this out. She can fix Steve just like she fixed him. Tony was actually pretty proud he'd thought of asking her. He begins to fidget, anxious for a reply. It only takes a few seconds for a one to come and he allows himself a small smile.

_he's just seen his best friend return from the dead and IM supposed to buy him peonies? yeah, genius, I'm sure that'll help. don't go all macho tony. talk to him, he needs support right now. ask him how he's feeling or I'll make your life hell for the foreseeable future. you've been warned._

The smile disappears and Tony grunts under his breath. Fury raises a stern eyebrow at him and Tony corrects himself immediately, slipping the phone back into his pocket and holding up his hands apologetically. 

When the meeting ends, Tony packs up slowly, pretending he needs to read each document before he puts it in his briefcase. He draws the moment out, cherishing every second before he has to face Steve. It's nerves, plain and simple. He's scared, scared Steve's going to reveal some dastardly secret, or even worse, break down and cry on him. Tony grins at Fury as he leaves the room, waving like a school child just to reassure everyone, including himself, that he's still the normal arrogant, sarcastic Tony they've become acclimatized to. He turns to face Steve and the grin fades. The man looks completely lost, staring out of the large glass windows that encase the room. Tony takes a deep breath. Steve doesn't even flinch.

"Hey Steve, old buddy, old..." Tony cuts himself off immediately, cheeks going red as Steve manages to somehow to look even more depressed than before. Definitely the wrong approach.

Tony tries again. "Look," he begins, placing a hand on Steve's shoulder. It's uncomfortable and unnatural and Tony grimaces inwardly. There's nowhere to go with this sentence and he's already given up. "Uh, well, what i'm trying to say. What i'm trying to ask, really - well, what we're all trying to ask-"

He can feel Steve's muscles tense under his touch, his eyes following the smooth, undulating curves of the skin Steve's tight grey shirt exposes. Looking anywhere, everywhere but directly at him, pupils a full-blown baby blue that could make grown men weep. 

"It's okay. - I'm okay," Steve places a hand over Tony's, and Tony's breath catches in his throat. For a second, not even that, they are the closest they've ever been. Then, normality resumes. Steve uses his grip on Tony's hand to lower it from his shoulder, severing the contact between the two. "Don't worry about it." Tony watches Steve walk out the door, down the corridor, watching him through the glass panels until the very last moment. His mouth is still open, holding the words that died on his tongue. His heart feels heavy, and something about that - about how raw his emotions have become - makes him feel ashamed.

Over the next couple of weeks, Tony corners Steve at least twice a day. Mostly their conversations don't venture beyond a whisper of "Cap, you okay?" and small nods. Tony likes to think he's doing this to score brownie points with Pepper, who's surveying his actions with an almost motherly pride. Tony doesn't realize the extent of his feelings until he's sent on a mission in the Middle East and spends every minute dealing with the emptiness he feels without his and Steve's albeit short conversations. He feels an overwhelming sense of relief when he returns, the next morning holding out a tray of cookies to Steve (too good to be made by him, but what Steve didn't know wouldn't hurt him). 

"Hey Cap!" Tony begins, ready to launch into another one of his prepared 'Mission: Cheer Steve Up' monologues but stops straight away. Tony has never seen the other man like this, not even after he first found out about Bucky. He's so... _empty._ The other man looks like a shell of what he once was, a wax figure, drained and emotionless. The cookies are abandoned in favor of Tony's arms around Steve; not quite an embrace, but the sentiment remains. Tony squints his eyes a little, fully expecting to be thrown into a wall. Instead, there's a warm hand patting his back. Everything about this interaction is screaming awkwardness, and neither of them feel comfortable. However, it seems to alleviate a little bit of Steve's tensions. As soon as they pull apart, Steve begins to talk, to open himself up to Tony, letting a few careless tears slip through the barrier he's so carefully crafted.

"I went to that war museum today. The one only a few blocks away, I think Bruce mentioned it to me over dinner. It had a photo of him in it, did you know that? There was a school trip there as well. It killed me, Tony, it really did... to see all their little faces looking at that picture of him in his uniform, clean-shaved and cropped hair, looking at him like he was a hero. 'Cause he was - my hero, at least. Growing up in Brooklyn always getting into fights, he saved me so many times I lost count, and I can't get past that, can't face the possibility that that version of him is gone forever. And all of this, everything that's being brought back up just makes me miss it. We lived in a glorified skip, slept on cold floors, barely surviving on the scraps we got for my art. I wouldn't wish that life on anyone, but what I wouldn't give to be back there with him." 

And that's a lot for Tony to process, so instead he tries his best to put a supportive smile on his face, a hand on Steve's arm. And it's a little breathtaking, how after everything, that arm feels like it belongs there.

"I know I should be grateful but I miss those days, and it feels ridiculous saying that 'cause I sure don't miss the polio and the blatant racism but I belong there," Steve manages to smile, though the moment it shrouded in somberness, "but thanks Tony, for listening. I feel a little better now."

A little better was not good enough for Tony Stark, and as he watched Steve walk away once more, he vowed that he would do all he could to see a real, full smile on Steve's face once more. 

**two.  
** After trying for a good, uh, twenty minutes to build a time machine, Tony rules out that idea. A much better one had took it's place: if he couldn't bring Steve to the 1940’s, he’d bring the 1940’s to Steve's room. Tony quickly realizes that this is one project that Pepper can handle better than himself, and enlists her help in creating a jumbled sort of mood board, scanning in as many photographs as JARVIS could find. Frankly, Pepper is just happy that Tony's doing something nice for a change, content to give advice on wallpapers, color schemes and anything else Tony finds to obsess about.

Beforehand, Tony had insisted on getting an idea of the space he's decorating. So, he slips into Steve's quarters when he's out on one of runs with Sam, certain he'd have a couple hours to root around. There's a pause Tony takes when he's right outside Steve's door. He knows this is immoral, that Steve would harbor a grudge against him for such a blatant intrusion into his privacy. It's an undeniably human feeling, and Tony decides it doesn't suit him, trying to slip back into the normal Tony Stark costume, practicing his usual look of arrogance in the nearest reflective surface. He barges in because _yes, this is who he is and what he does_ , but has to stop. He wonders absentmindedly if he's got the wrong room, but the familiar shield that rests besides an empty bed tells him otherwise. It's barren, like Steve never left the army - bed neat and freezing cold, absent of any sheets and the big fluffy pillows Stark provides. Next to it is the only other piece of furniture in the room, a plain cabinet. There's a couple of mementos spread across it and Tony can't help but reach out, reach out for the only residue of Steve in the room. There's a locket, Tony's seen Steve gaze at it enough to know that a photo of Peggy lies inside it. Next to it, a photo of Steve and Sam, arm in arm. It isn't even in a frame, simply lies there, smiling sadly up at Tony. On the end of the cabinet, shucked into a corner, are a pile of comics. Tony's seen a couple like them in Coulson's collection, and wonders if that's where they've come from. There's some of the old Captain America ones near the bottom that appear untouched. However, Tony's hands automatically reach for the one at the top. It’s falling apart, text worn away with love, the paperclips in the middle gone. Tony can barely follow the story, the cover's missing but Tony can work out something's going on with a brunette chick, a few aliens and a pleasing amount of dad jokes. Interesting, Tony muses. An idea begins to cement itself in his mind.

He knows that this has to believable, rather than the lackluster job SHIELD did when recreating a familiar environment for Steve to wake up in after sixty years. He needs stuff actually from the era, rather than cheap replications. That's why Tony is stood here right now, expression masked by a baseball cap supporting a team he's never even heard of and a pair of large, dark sunglasses. Pepper has sent him directions to a vintage comic book store she's found - she's a miracle worker and Tony knows it, discovering this little gem on the outskirts of New York. The inside of the store is bathed in a dim half-light, glowing almost ethereally. Tony lets out a small sigh, realizing he'll have to take off the shades when he enters. The prospect of the clientele there acknowledging his existence gives him chills, but he knows what he has to do. He could have easily sent Pepper, or one of his interns - God, Tony could have bought the entire store. Instead, he knows that this has to be a personal act as he takes a tentative first step inside the building.

The first thing Tony registers is the smell - fresh, almost minty, a stark contrast to what he was expecting. The whole place is, really. It has a cozy and quaint ambiance, less of a store and more of a library. There are big, plush armchairs littered around the store, some occupied by teenagers who are so engaged in their chosen comic they don't even look up. It's oddly endearing. 

Tony wanders over to the nearest tray of comics, feeling completely out of his depth here. He's a little reassured when he sees that the comics are divided by what decade they were first printed in, and then by series or publisher. The store specializes in vintage comic books, so it's easy enough for Tony to find the era Steve would be most familiar with. 

It's all a little daunting, if he's honest. There are rows and rows of individual comics sealed in plastic wallets, shielding them from the outside world. Tony knows he's got a big task ahead of him: he's not going to be content until he's gone through each one individually. His fingers reach out instinctively to touch the one closest to him. The logo is instantly recognizable as his thumb slips over the soft cover. _Walt Disney’s Comics + Stories!_ The title reads, above a portrait of a grinning Donald Duck. Underneath is the price printed on it, TEN CENTS. Tony huffs, the price the store has attached to it is astronomically higher. Even though it’s pocket change to someone like Tony, he still feels like he’s going to be swindled in here. But hey, anything for Steve, right? 

He flicks past the Disney ones quickly, looking for something a bit more adult for Steve. He then comes across a comic called _Mr. District Attorney_ in bold, orange lettering. The comic shows two men fighting on a roof-top. Both men have that sort of Cary Grant look to them, all slick black hair and dark features. He wonders if Steve would like it, and suddenly comes to a realization. Tony has absolutely no clue what Steve’s into, can’t even make a guess at whether he prefers action, or comedy, or romance. He’s in here blind as a bat, feeling and clutching for something — anything, praying for the best. 

The pile of ‘maybes’ stacks up pretty quickly, at first he throws some superhero comics in (the ones with the gorgeous women on the covers: all tiny waists and wearing leather that clings to their breasts in a way Tony’s sure defies the laws of physics). Then there’s a couple military ones, advertised by big tanks and explosions. Tony’s not sure if they’ll hit too close to home for Steve, thinking back to the war museum incident. He keeps them anyway, and promises to flick through them all before he offers them to Steve. At the top are a few Archie comics as well. It’s love at first sight for Tony: there’s something he finds amusing about the plucky, red-faced ginger boy, chuckling under his breath as he flicks through one of the editions. Before he puts it down, he catches sight of the strap line he must’ve missed when he first analysed the cover. AMERICA’S LARGEST SELLING TEEN MAGAZINE! Was he an idiot for thinking Steve would enjoy this stuff? Would the stoic soldier dismiss Tony’s taste as childish? Tony couldn’t make a decision, but ended up placing the copies he’d found back on the pile, although a little more tentatively this time.

He’s immediately drawn to a copy of _Tillie the Toiler._ Right in the middle of the cover was a woman in military uniform, saluting the American flag. On the back there’s a drawing of her beating up a comical swastika-wearing villain whilst exclaiming _‘68 pages in full color!’_ Tony’s pretty proud of this find as he reads the description. 

_Follow Tillie’s antics as the short-tempered Simpkins fires her once again. What’s a girl gonna do? Why, join the U.S. military of course! Watch her as she kicks our American boys into shape and uses her charisma, fierce determination and good looks as everyone’s favorite femme fatale to defeat the Nazis!_

_Steve’s gonna love this_ , Tony thinks for certain this time. He stands there for a few minutes, imagining Steve’s eyes lighting up like fireworks, grinning widely as he pulls Tony into an embrace, warmth seeping into Tony’s skin. He fleshes out the scenario, carefully mapping every inch of Steve in his mind. Then, his eyes catch a glimpse of Tillie once more, and it dawns on him why the women is so familiar. _Peggy_. He’s an idiot. Part of Tony feels shame, dragging up old memories like this would kill the guy - how could he have been so completely blind? 

He’s starting to think it was a mistake to come here, starting to regret this little project because Tony just knows Steve will hate every inch of it, when something catches his eye. He freezes whilst putting the comic down when he sees a familiar face. Tony has to crawl right to the back under the shelving, pulling out a box of unwanted comics. Some of them seemed like school projects, with much cheaper prices than the boxes overhead. He grabs the comic he recognizes, pulling it up to his face. And, _yes,_ he cries, _that’s her!_ The brunette with the tiny nose and big doe eyes - from the comic he'd seen in Steve's room.

Waves of relief wash over Tony, comforted by the knowledge Steve would be familiar with these comics, and that there would be no way he could mess this up now. He gathers up all the copies he can find: around fifteen in all, the full set. He doesn't look too closely at them, only glances over the glossy, but noticeably poorer quality covers. Each has similar close-ups of one of the main protagonists in bold bubbles of color. There's two girls: the one he recognized and one with soft green skin which strangely compliments the purple vintage waves in her hair. Tony's less interested by the males though, chuckling at the unrealistic proportions of one of the guy's muscles. He's got jet black curls and tanned skin, with a cigarette permanently clutched between his teeth. The other guy, however, is more Tony's type: slick blonde hair and the bluest eyes ever seen. In ever picture he's dressed like an extra from The Princess Bride, in tight fitted trousers and a billowing white blouse. _Eternal,_ the title reads in elongated blood red calligraphy, _by Ernst E. Groves._ Tony only notices it when he's out the shop and half way down the road, grinning like a school boy with a pile of presents in tow. That's his one good deed for the year sorted, he thinks, Pepper will be so proud.

**three.  
** He was definitely going to give those comics to Steve soon. Soon-ish. He'd finished the decorating weeks ago: Steve had got a little tearful, Tony got a little tingly when they hugged, but whatever, it's Captain America, who wouldn't? Tony refused to read too much into it. A noticeable absence from the room were the comics Tony had gone to such extreme lengths to buy. Pepper had pulled him aside, throwing him against a wall in the corridor and _wow, that was definitely going to leave a bruise. When had she gotten so strong?_ Soon she'll be more entitled to the Iron Man suit that he is. Heck, she already is and don't they both know it. Those thoughts dissolve as soon as she brings up the comics, making the assumption that Tony's forgotten about it. He begins to defend himself - he was reading through them, getting a world-class Stark quality check before being sent off to the man himself. Tony punctuates his excuse with a wink and a big grin, trying to win Pepper over. If she thinks he's lying she doesn't show it, just ushers him back into the room, begging him to show a slither of affection towards Steve. 

Surprisingly, that was pretty close to the truth. Or at least, that's how it started. He was going to force JARVIS to read the comics, he'd even made a program that would give a rough estimation as to how much Steve would like a comic. He'd been scanning the comics in when he found himself stopping at the pile of the _Eternal_ series. Deciding that it wouldn't hurt to have a quick flick through himself, he grabbed the first copy in the series, fell into a nearby chair and didn't get up for four hours straight. When he does, it's only because his legs have gone numb and he's absolutely exhausted. He makes a quick calculation before sleep takes him: if he continues reading at his average speed then he'll have gone through the whole pile by the end of the week. The corners of his lips turn up slightly. Pepper couldn't be too cross with that.

The next morning, Steve chokes on his cornflakes. It makes Tony actually look up from the comic, throwing it to the floor in order to clap Steve on the back because _that's the proper medical procedure, right?_ Once Steve has recovered he gives a dismissive wave to Tony, urging him to believe it was nothing. Steve changes the subject, picking up the askew comic as casually as he can.

“What’s this?” He asks, attempting to hide the lilt in his voice. 

Tony chuckles slightly to mask his nerves, “I saw those comics in your room when I had it redecorated. Thought I’d buy you some more that weren’t, y’know, totally unreadable. I’ve been meaning to give them you for ages. And I’m sorry I didn’t, I just got slightly distracted. You’ve got good taste in comics, Stevie.” 

Steve takes a seat next to Tony, scanning through the first few pages. 

“You like it? Really?” 

Tony grins at Steve, entertained by his obvious fondness for the series. 

“Yeah! But I don’t understand why Charles is chasing after Mary so much. Like, he’s gorgeous and all the good jokes are given to him and she comes across all snooty. Definitely think there’s some underlying homoerotic tension between Charles and Henry though. The way this Groves guy sketches out their long, lingering gazes is totally telling me something about him.” 

“What?” Steve splutters, stumbling over his words, “No, no, no— where’d you get that from? There’s _nothing_ between them two. And Mary’s so strong and confident, that’s why Charles loves him. I mean her!”

Steve's getting flustered, and Tony finds it oddly beguiling. Cute, even, as he watches those bony fingers rub circles into soft temples. Now grinning, Tony stands up. It's obvious Steve has an attachment to these books, and he knows better than to insult something the super soldier holds so dearly. Steve's taken with the comic, ignoring Tony in favor of cradling it like a lost lover. Holding back the urge to whisper _'awh'_ and other child-like terms of endearments. Instead, he chooses the most logical route and ruffles Steve's hair. Those big, doll eyes stare up at him and Tony thinks he's finally ascended to the next spiritual plane. Sunlight, he thinks, this man holds the sun. Steve's lips are too close, so full and open and ready. His hand is still threaded in Steve's hair, and Tony's certain he couldn't move it if he wanted. Which he doesn't. His pull is firm on Steve's hair, raising his chin up slightly like a puppeteer. It's a scene straight from one of Tony's wet dreams, Steve's breath hitting Tony's neck and it's like no warmth he's ever felt before. They're close, so so close, standing on the edge of a precipice, waiting for the other to jump. _Jump,_ Tony thinks, _Jump._

He takes one last look at Steve and runs.  
  


**four.  
** The comic book is left open and exposed on the couch besides Steve. He's scared to touch it, a cursed link to the time before this life. Steve remembers finding an old copy of _Eternal_ in the collection Coulson had let him rummage through. It was a single copy, from later in the series, one of Steve's favorites. He remembered composing it when Bucky was ill, the only thing making him part from his companion was the knowledge of how happy Buck'd be when Steve read out the continuation of the story. It was the one where Henry (modeled shamelessly after Bucky) finally gets the hot alien woman, Delta. Those memories had seemed so close, that day in Coulson's office, events that happened over sixty years ago coming back in blazing color. 

And now the stories he'd once sold to cover one month's rent had returned to bite him. Steve thought no one would actually read the comics, the publisher laughing in Steve's face when he'd first sent copies off to him. He certainly didn't expect them to land in the hands of Tony Stark. To have those sheets under his hands, in a completely foreign land, and to be able to so clearly see Bucky’s face grinning toothily up at Steve once again. It was all incredibly overwhelming, the pages feeling like fire on the tips of his fingers. He didn't have a clue how to deal with the situation at hand, sat stiff on the sofa. When the initial shock finally dulled, he was left trying to quell the warmth in his stomach, the scarily familiar butterflies that came when Tony complimented his work. 

He finally mustered the strength to stand up, after how long he could not say. Steve placed the comic on the sofa but found he didn't want to leave his work like that - abandoned and neglected. He then propped it up on the adjacent bookshelf and was again discomforted by how odd it looked against the leather bound classics. Steve let out a little huff, knowing exactly what his subconscious was getting at. He'd just have to return this to Tony personally.

Steve didn't have to think about where to head; his legs dragging him automatically to Tony's workshop. He half-expects he'll have to plead with JARVIS to be let in but instead finds the door wide open. It's so unlike Tony that Steve approaches hesitantly, fists poised to attack. Instead, he finds Tony sat crossed-legged, eyes overcome with a childish glaze and surrounded by a spread of comics - the comics Steve wrote.

He's slow to react, just stands there with his mouth agape, caught totally off-guard by Tony. Over the past few weeks, Steve's seen a side to the guy that he never expected and he's left juggling feelings he hasn't experienced since Peggy. When Tony finally picks up on the other man's presence, Steve responds by copying one of Tony's toothy grins and waves the comic at him. He sits down next to Tony, reading over Tony's shoulder, fighting the urge to rest his head there, Tony's cheek against his.

"You really like these comics, huh?" Steve whispers. His tone is soft and intimate, leaving no trace of malice.

"It's ridiculous, I know. Go ahead and laugh at me super-soldier, I do feel a real connection to this guy. The way he writes, it gets to you... y'know? Warms you. S'impossible to explain but I read these big sappy declarations of love and I wanna hug the guy. I tried to look him up but it's like he doesn't even exist. I've started scanning military records with no luck. And who am I kidding, he was probably an old hermit. I can't believe I'm imagining some Greek god writing comics in his spare time."

Steve laughs at that, and then feels a little guilty. More than a little. He folds.

"What'd you say that fellow's name was?"

"Ernst E. Groves. Never elaborated on what the E stood for. Sounds familiar though, and it's killing me I can't place where."

"Huh," Steve mumbles, grabbing one of Tony's weird technological pads that he's barely got a grasp on. He uses the pen attached to it to write the name out, and then another name underneath. Tony's jaw drops.

Ernst E. Groves  
 _Steven Rogers_

"That clever brain of yours couldn't even work out my silly anagrams."

Tony looks at him, eyes melting like hot cocoa. Steve's heart skips a beat as Tony leans ever-so-closer, they are centimeters apart when Tony whispers into his ear:

"That's the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard." 

Steve leans back in mock-offence.

“That took me three weeks!”

“You idiot,” Tony says, quickly and with the biggest grin on his lips, tears bring to form in the corners of his eyes, “you colossal idiot.” 

Tony kisses him. He crams himself into Steve’s lap, hand threading through the other man’s hair as his tongue invites itself into Steve’s mouth. The taste of Steve hits Tony in waves, beginning with a bitterness and turning sweeter the deeper into the kiss he goes. Their mouths clash with urgency, skin against skin as Steve shoves his cold hands up Tony's shirt. A squeal escapes Tony's lips at the contact, and he is forced lean back, regaining his breath. Steve is disheveled and panting - the sight making Tony's heart ache.

“We can't even share a first kiss without you insulting me?" Steve whispers, words rushed and mumbled, "God, I love you.”

The words send ripples across the room. They have never been a big deal for Steve. He gave his love freely, always meant it but rarely had it returned. For him, it was whispered in dance halls and on porches, earning him looks of pity or on a few eventful occasions, a slap. He meant it though: he always meant it. And he means it now, more than he ever felt possible.

Nobody bar his Mother had ever said those words to Tony. His pretty little flings didn’t dare, what Tony and his bedfellows shared was the furthest thing from love. He dealt with primitive passion. Lust, not love. Pepper loved Tony: he knew that in his heart. She had never said it, and Tony knows he’d be uncomfortable if she did. Tony did not want to here those words. Or, so he thought.

Now, as those three words spilled clumsily from Steve’s mouth, Tony thinks they could not be more perfect. They were made for Steve to say, made for parting those plush lips, revealing a tantalizing hint of tongue at the beginning of the ‘L’, teasing Tony cruelly as Steve’s front teeth dragged across his bottom lip to form the ‘V’. Tony had found his purpose in life: to make Steve say those words over and over and over again until his ears bled. 

**Author's Note:**

> all the comics mentioned do actually exist and were popular in steve's era. comments & kudos are greatly appreciated!


End file.
